


A Length of Lights

by Gileonnen



Series: while joined( Glass, Sky ) [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Domesticity, Guardians on vacation, Handkissing, Incorrect Use of Chairs, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: The only way to convince Praedyth to take a vacation was to make it sound like a chore.





	A Length of Lights

Kabr comes in near sunset with his hands earth-stained, palms green from pulling weeds. "Enjoy yourself?" Pahanin asks, as though he can't conceptualize a universe where this is true.

Kabr, though, grins as he pours himself a glass of iced lemon water. Condensation beads on the glass even as he raises it to his lips. "Nothing like hard work to clear the mind," he says.

"That explains it," says Pahanin airily. "I prefer my mind cluttered. I'd never find anything if it was clear."

Praedyth, curled up on the window seat, just shakes his head at the two of them and turns his attention back to his book. He's trying to follow an esoteric argument about the paracausal properties of radiolaria, and he keeps getting distracted--by the gentle swaying of the pines outside, the light glittering on the lake, the trill of unfamiliar birds.

By the way the sunlight picks out every muscle of Kabr's arm, every golden plane of his face, as he sweeps his hand over his brow.

Kabr's gaze meets his, and he smiles. It's sudden, almost startled, achingly sincere; it makes Praedyth's chest feel tight with love. "Please tell your friend thank you for letting us borrow her house."

"It's not _borrowing,_ " insists Pahanin. "We're house-sitting. We have responsibilities. It's more like we've adopted a stray." His bare feet are up on the back of Dionyza-3's armchair, though, and the parts of his latest gun are scattered across her coffee table, which says all it needs to about how seriously he's taking his responsibilities. "Did anyone see where my tiny screwdriver went? Did someone eat it?"

"It's here." Praedyth closes his book and crosses the floor, fishing the screwdriver out of a mug and wiping it down before he hands it to Pahanin. "You are planning to put that back together, aren't you?"

"Eventually. Got to break it a little more first so that I can figure out what's wrong."

Praedyth takes the mug to the sink and washes it, and after a moment, Kabr comes over to join him. They make an efficient team as they work through the afternoon's dishes, Kabr washing until his own hands come clean, Praedyth drying each dish with a whisper of solar Light. The soap smells sharp, all crisp lavender and lemon; Kabr smells of leaves and sun and sweat. Their hands brush as they pass dishes between them, and a little of the warmth of Praedyth's Light lingers where they touch.

Plates and cups chime against each other as Praedyth places them in the cupboards. Behind him, the tiny pieces of Pahanin's gun click gently on the wood of the coffee table.

 _I need someone to watch my house for me while I'm doing a long rotation on Venus,_ Dionyza-3 had said. _Think you and your team can handle it?_ As though it was a chore--as though she knew that the only way she could convince Praedyth to take a vacation was to make it sound like a chore.

He hadn't realized that it was so obvious to other people.

When the sink is clean, Praedyth tugs Kabr over to the low couch. It groans under Kabr's weight, but he settles in the way he does at home: back to the armrest, long legs stretched out over the cushions with just enough room for Praedyth between them. And Praedyth settles into his accustomed spot, hand spread over Kabr's sternum, head pillowed on his shoulder.

"You could join us," Kabr offers. "There's room for one more."

By now, Pahanin is lying on the seat of the chair with his legs propped up on the back and his head hanging upside-down over the seat edge. He has an augment lens over one eye, projecting diagnostics onto a tiny piece of metal that Praedyth supposes must be the culprit. "Kind of in the middle of something right now," Pahanin says.

"You could be in the middle of something _else_ ," says Praedyth. His knuckles graze Kabr's jaw, fingertips flickering with warmth. Kabr takes his point immediately; he catches Praedyth's hand, kisses palm and wrist. Praedyth slides up his chest to kiss the back of his hand in kind, then the corner of his mouth, then (long, lingering) his lips.

For a moment, Pahanin is quiet. Praedyth has learned to read those infrequent silences, to know what it means when Pahanin's breath catches in his throat or when his clever hands go still. He's tempted. A part of him always misses them, even when they're in the room with him. Even when they're on either side of him, insistent, holding and grounding him.

But at last, Pahanin only laughs, "Later. We have all the time in the world."

And in that moment, with the sun setting red outside the window and Kabr warm and glad beneath him, Praedyth believes it.


End file.
